Not So Bad
by Lord Death's Paramour
Summary: After the war, the newly-crowned Fire Lord contemplates his feelings for a certain waterbender.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Avatar: the Last Airbender._ It's use here is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **It's not my best, but I'm extremely happy that I finally managed to finish an _Avatar_ fic. There are lots if allusions to the finale, however I added a bit of AU-ness to suit my fancy. Hope you enjoy!

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**Not So Bad**

It had been an agonizingly long few days. After Zuko was officially crowned Fire Lord, there had been a never-ending stack of paperwork for him to complete, not to mention the endless meetings to discuss amends and reconstruction for the other nations and the fact that, after all these years, he now found himself with a nation of his own. After finally escaping generals, advisors, and servants alike, the young ruler found himself wanting nothing more than to fall into the silks and soft pillows in his chamber and let sleep take him.

As he navigated the long corridors and hallways that led to his rooms, he contemplated the recent turn of events with a wry smile. There had been a point in his life when he had expected nothing less than to reign after his father, be married to the appropriate Fire Nation wife, and produce a couple of heirs to succeed him when he died. Then, he had finally let those dreams fade and had accepted, if somewhat reluctantly, a quiet life with his uncle in the Earth Kingdom. He'd entertained the idea of one day becoming Fire Lord again briefly after his betrayal of Iroh in Ba Sing Sei when he'd allied himself with Azula. He should have known. Azula always lies. After that, all thoughts of re-claiming his birthright had been pushed aside; his only goal was to train the Avatar and save the world. At this point, he no longer cared whether or not he would remain in it, only that it had to be saved.

He had experienced some doubt in the beginning after joining the rag-tag group led by the biologically twelve year-old. Those had been shortly laid to rest after their first serious sparring match. Goofy or not, the kid was powerful. With the proper training and control, Zuko had known victory was not only possible, it was probable.

And he had been right. He smiled to himself as he turned another corner. Even after all that advice and pressure placed upon him, Aang had still managed to succeed his way. Taking away Ozai's bending really was a fate worse than death. One had to be a bender to truly understand. Bending is like an extension of oneself. It is comparable to cutting off the arm of a non-bender. If given the choice, Zuko knew absolutely that Ozai would have preferred death. As it was, the former Fire Lord spent his days in a cell in the darkest corner of the Boiling Rock. There were constant guards – not that it mattered. He may have remained the same, cruel man, but he was utterly powerless.

\Tearing his thoughts away from his father (perpetually a sore spot for him; he had so many _why_s), his mind wondered to his friends scattered around the palace. Friends. Odd, he never thought he would use the term, much less that it would be applied to the Avatar and his comrades. And yet, there is something about fighting and bleeding beside someone that bonds, no matter how reluctant the scarred firebender had been to form attachments.

Thinking of fighting reminded him of the Agni Kai with Azula, and he rubbed his chest almost absently over the spot where her lightening had struck him. After Katara had healed him, all that remained was a prominent scar. _Yet another,_ he mused.

Katara.

Yes, that was definitely a subject which required some serious contemplation. Why had he taken the lightening for her? He wondered why he continually asked himself that question when he already knew the answer: in the split second he'd had to make a decision, he'd known without a doubt that he didn't want to live in a world without her in it.

_But what does that mean?_ His mind demanded an answer for his behavior. After she'd forgiven him the day he'd taken her to her mother's killer, they'd slowly become comrades, then friends, then best friends. He knew he cared for her more than anyone after his mother and uncle. He admired and respected her, and the thought that they'd simply go their separate ways after the war had never crossed his mind.

So what did he want from her? More than friendship? It was an interesting though. There had been a time once when he couldn't see himself with anyone other than Mai. He almost chuckled as he realized that that ship sailed when he broke up with her through a note and left.

Shaking his head at his thoughtless gesture, he finally came to the door to his chamber and slowly pushed it open and stepped inside.

Quickly undressing down to his pants, he was in the act of rounding the bed to climb in when he nearly tripped on something in the floor.

Looking down, he quickly realized that the _something_ was in fact _someone_. More specifically, the objects of his previous thoughts herself.

_And just what is she doing sleeping in my floor?_ he wondered bemusedly. It was almost like a scene in a bad romance scroll. Not that he would know. He'd never read one. He leaned down and gently shook her.

Her eyelids fluttered for a few seconds before finally opening widely at being caught.

"Hey, Zuko." Her eye twitched. "Nice room you've got here."

He raised his good eyebrow. "I thank you, however I'm wondering what brings you to it at the present hour."

Blue eyes rolled at the formal response. "I'm admiring the view from down here. It's really quite lovely. Definitely the best in the Fire Nation, I'd say."

It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he was reminded of Sokka in that moment.

"The real reason, peasant." There had long since been no malice in the use of the old insult.

Unaffected, she rose to a seating position and combed a hand through her long hair.

"You're going to laugh, I think."

"Never." He took a seat on the floor beside her. "What's on your mind?"

She suddenly became interested in her fingernails. "Well, when we all traveled together, we never exactly stayed in a prestigious inn. Or any inn, really. Everyone was always together. It was both precautionary and comforting at the same time."

He silently acknowledged that she was right on both counts and waited for her to continue.

"Well, Sokka and Suki are in a room somewhere on the other side of the palace. Together. The same with Aang and Toph. Together. So are Haru, Teo, and The Duke. Everyone has someone. It was scary going into my room alone tonight and waiting to be caught off my guard. So I find myself here, seeking out the one person who may understand a little of what I feel, asking him to lower himself to allowing a poor, little Water Tribe peasant to sleep in his floor, just for tonight." She grinned at the description of herself.

He'd listened intently throughout her confession and noted that even fearsome master waterbenders had vulnerabilities. He couldn't allow her to sleep on his floor, however.

"I'm sorry, but you can't."

Tan cheeks flushed. "You're right. We wouldn't want anyone to discover that the Fire Lord actually showed kindness to a _peasant_."

He glared at her. "No, but Uncle would be furious if he found out that I made a woman sleep on the floor. You can have the bed. I'll take the floor. No protest, now," he ordered teasingly as he saw she was prepared to do just that. He stood up and moved a pillow and a blanket into the spot she'd been previously curled into and neatly formed a pallet.

She watched this act with softened eyes. "You know, you really are a pretty decent guy," she admitted smilingly. "You find me here with about the corniest excuse ever and you still let me stay. And then you offer to sleep in the floor." She rolled her eyes. "Such a gentleman. If you didn't still owe me from the incident with the tree, I might have argued with you. Oh, well. Goodnight!" she asserted cheerfully before climbing onto the edge of the soft mattress and closing her eyes. It isn't long before she's snoring softly.

Much later, he is still awake, the need for sleep forgotten, eyes drifting back and forth from the lovely face he can see partially to the small hand the hangs gently over the side and onto the floor beside him. He's still not sure what has changed between them since he decided that she was worth dying for, but he is positive that the warmth he feels is not from his inner fire. This is a new feeling entirely, that leaves him hopeful and just a little scared. Hesitantly, he reaches up and with the barest of touches he caresses the smooth, tan skin of her face.

There's definitely something there that wasn't there before, he accepts; and as he gently tucks the smaller hand by his head into his own, the desire to protect overwhelms him, and he thinks that this _love_ his uncle always speaks of may not be so bad.

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I know, it's extremely corny. And I just couldn't resist the _Beauty and the Beast_ tribute. The best romantic movie of all time. Enough said. Just for clarification: Aang and Toph are simply sleeping in this story, as is everyone. I felt the need to make that known. I'd greatly appreciate constructive criticism; it makes my world go 'round. Thank you for reading!


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